The still quiet of the tomb's inner chamber was broken by the antechamber door being cracked open. A beam of light penetrated inward, dust motes dancing before it. A hand followed, joined to an arm, and finally to the body of a young archeologist. Her mouth was parted slightly in awe as her torch swept round the room, reflections of light bouncing off stands of armour, shields of all shapes, polearms and swords alike. Urns stood as they had for countless centuries, undoubtedly filled with coins and other valuables. Resting in the center of the room was a large marble coffin, inlaid with gold, onyx, and precious gems.

"I think we've found it Andrew!" The young archaeologist said in a hushed voice. "Andrew" stepped foot into the room after the woman, stepping cautiously. "Careful Ellen, it could be booby-trapped."

"Nonesense! None of the Khamar era tombs we've discovered so far have been, why should this one?" She reached out for one of the urns out to the side of the room, only to have his firm grip seize her wrist and yank it back. Her eyes flashed up to his in indignation, jerking her hand away. "Because if this is the one you've been seeking Ellen, it belongs to the warlord they called "The Red". It wouldn't be a stretch if he took a few more lives to the grave after his time had passed. We really should have done this during the day." He muttered as he played his light over the room, lightly touching the walls and toeing the ground gingerly. "Let's clear the room before we go poking around. Better safe than sorry."

"Whatever." She snorted, though she followed his lead and worked her way opposite him around the room.

Presently they met again on the other side of the burial chamber, with the pedestal between them and the door. They looked at each other, then at the coffin. Finally, Ellen spoke. "Well, just one last thing to check Mister Cautious." He glanced at her in an irritated way, then handed her his flashlight, proceeding to the pedestal slowly, running his hands over the beautifully wrought exterior, seeking hidden catches and false surfaces. Finding none, he worked his way around until he was finally satisfied and looked at his companion, nodding his assent. She smirked at him as she approached, "see? Told you there was nothing to worry about." She took a confident stance over the coffin and winked at him. "Ready to see our prize?" He didn't answer, only produced a crowbar and began working at the seal. As he fitted the crowbar, however, a hidden catch made a near inaudible click, just loud enough to be heard. They both froze and waited expectantly, for something, anything, to happen. After a few long moments, they both released pent up breaths and sighed, looking at each other. A nervous smile creased Ellen's face and Andrew chuckled slightly, before putting more pressure on the crowbar. With some effort the heavy cover dislodged and slid over slightly. Andrew paused to put the crowbar down, then placed both his hands on the lid, looking over to Ellen, who had done the same. "Ready?" He asked. She gave no answer, only smirked and began pushing. Together they grunted and shoved.

The marble slab slid smoothly over the side and made a hollow boom that reverbrated throughout the tomb, sending up a cloud of dust. As the dust settled they both peered inside. Ellen gasped and looked on in shock as Andrew gaped in equal amazement, before finally formulating words. "The hell is this...a sick joke?" His companion couldn't tear her eyes away. Inside the coffin was a powerfully built man, yes a man, not a withered pile of bones, no mummified corpse, a compact, broad shouldered man with a long brown beard and short, matching hair. His features were strong and equally foreboding, lips pressed together, brows pressed down, eyes closed. He wore what looked to be a full suit of plate mail, though it was unlike any they had ever seen thus far. Ellen spun away, confused and trying to catch her breath, feeling dizzy all of the sudden. Andrew noticed her plight and turned to her, catching her by her shoulders. "Easy honey, easy, take a deep breath. This is all too weird, something doesn't feel right, we need to back off and come back later when it's light." And make some phone calls while he was at it. The curator back home would never believe this unless he saw it himself. "Come back later? And have someone else steal our discovery? Never!" Indignant, Ellen shook off his touch and rose, fortifying herself, brushing the dust off her pants. "I just needed to catch my breath that's all. Andrew, we're sitting on the find of the century, I refuse to let anyone else take credit for my...our, discovery." She shook her head and turned back to the coffin.

Sighing, he wiped his hands together, the dust mixing with sweat as he rose. As he placed his hand down, it came in contact with her ice cold, frozen, hand. The touch caused him to jump. Her hands were never clammy, not when she slept, nor when she worked, never when she caressed him here on the steppes when the world was dead. He looked up at her as he rose. Her eyes were big as saucers and her jaw hung slack, her nostrils flaring. She looked positively dumbstruck, even frightened. "Ellen! What is it?"

"His eyes..." She moaned.

"His eyes..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. He followed her gaze down toward the dead man, until he too froze, his heart thumping heavily against his chest. Whereas before, the man's eyes had been lidded closed, now they were open, staring up at the ceiling of the chamber as if fixed at a point far beyond. His irises were a cold, predatory grey.

A shiver went down Andrew's spine, followed by a cold sweat. This was not right, there was so much that was wrong here, he felt an unseen danger creeping up on them. "Ellen, we need to go. Ellen? Ellen!" He cried in a hoarse whisper. She was frozen though, even as those cold eyes slowly turned toward hers and seized her in their powerful gaze. A moment passed in silence. Then the dead man's face contorted and his mouth turned into a snarl. An unintelligible roar thundered through the chamber as the tomb's master cried in an unknown language and moved with a speed that bordered on the unbelievable. Andrew was thrown into a stack of urns, shattering them as coins, gems, and other precious items went flying in an explosion of force, stunning him. Ellen's throat was seized by a powerful hand. Finally coming back to herself, she clawed weakly at the grip that was crushing her larynx. Those eyes were still fixated on her as she was brought close enough to their owner's face for her to smell the poisoned, musty breath of something out of her worst nightmare. She began pleading, gasping for her life while struggling to breathe. His snarl depeened as an animalistic intelligence flashed at her. The words came slowly, forced, gutteral and deep. "Thank you for freeing me from my early grave. I suffered no criminals when I ruled, I will suffer none now. You will be the first to die." His incisors elongated, his eyes glowed fiery crimson and he buried his head into her neck, his teeth sinking deep into her lifeblood. Her body jerked rigid and her mouth formed a soundless scream as he drained her life. When he finished, he withdrew his mouth, as some blood still spurted and bubbled from her torn neck. He looked at her ruined body dispassionately, before crushing her spine in his grip and throwing her aside like an empty vessel devoid of food. Andrew stared on in stark horror until this abomination turned its gaze upon him. Then he started screaming.

The moon had climbed high into the northern sky when a shadowy figure slipped from the yawning mouth of the archeological dig. The being flexed his fingers through his gauntlets as blood dripped from his breastplate, splattered there like a painter would upon canvas. The dig was deserted, but atop a low rise to the east glittered torchlight, casting shadows upon rows of tents. Moonlight glittered upon sharp white teeth curved into a killer smile, before a passing cloud covered the site in darkness. When the cloud passed, the figure had vanished.

Some time later, the still quiet of the steppes was broken as the screaming began anew.

Books:
Historical Fiction/Non-fiction, Sci-fi/Fantasy, factbooks, well written romance novels with strong plot-lines.

Music:
pre-2000 Country, Instrumental, Techno, House, Celtic, Hard Rock, Melodic Metal, basically anything with a strong meld of instruments. Harsh vocals are tolerated if they're not hard to follow. Love the pounding beat of the bass.

Video Games:
Arma 3, League of Legends, War Thunder, Star Citizen, Naval Action Beta, Call of Duty AW Exo Zombies, Minecraft (for that creative spark).

General Interests:
Rollerblading, hanging out with a select group of friends, women, alcohol aficionado, walking late at night when the world is asleep.